Wednesday, January 01, 2003

What happens to us after we die? Listen, I'm not obsessed with death, but here are my theories:

1. The good part of you goes elsewhere, while the bad part of you wanders the earth forever. That's why we're all scared of ghosts, 'cause they're the evil parts of dead people.

2. Nothing happens, which means we're all screwed.

3. You're compelled to wander one square mile around your remains, forever. So in the case of my dad, he can go to the Fox Chevrolet dealership, that weird suburban nightclub, and Mars Supermarket. Not a bad deal, remind me to be interred near the Club Charles.

4. You start your life all over again, but without any advance knowledge of what's going to happen, which is kind of deterministic and means you live the same life over and over again.

5. In your next life, you become the thing you hated most. I'd be a bug, then. It's possible I was a bug before, and hated humans.

6. Whatever you thought was going to happen, well, that's what happens. So if you always say "I'm going to hell" you probably will. If you believe in harps and angels, that's what you get. I don't know what will happen to me, with all my theories, under this option.

Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.